Not a Love Story
by Lone One
Summary: Remus and Dora and a romance in the sun: Not all stories about love are love stories.


This is not a love story. Or maybe it is. But it's not the kind they sing songs about, and it's not the kind that you tell to children. Or maybe it is. Maybe it's something more real than that.

Remus doesn't love her, never loved her, never could, not like she wanted him to. He remembers _little girl, little cousin in a bright sundress, shapes her face like his to make him laugh when the Four visit Sirius' cousin_. Not that he was that old, but old enough. Remus has always been too old for her, laughing girl, pretty little sunshine girl.

Dora loves him. He's strong and steady and everything she ever dreamed of, and the things more than that, the things he is that she never wanted _too old too poor too dangerous werewolf_ don't matter, because this is love, this is true love. Not enough love in the world now, not with death and terror everywhere. Dora remembers meeting Mr. Remus long ago, before she knew there were monsters and men and sometimes you couldn't tell the two apart.

His father would have loved her, happy sometime-daughter to his wise and good father. His mother, though, she knew his heart; she would have been so sad. _When you find love, my darling, never give it up. Even death cannot kill love._ But death killed mother, and she has been asleep for so long now _fivetentwentythousandyears_, will never know what her darling boy became while she was away.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Dora, and the sun shone on her hair, and she knew what it was to be loved. But even Doras have to grow up someday, and as she grew, the sun faded, hid away like she hid her spots and blemishes and ugly plain hair. Dora made herself beautiful and the world made itself black, and Dora was the lucky one, lucky survivor of the near-annihilation of the world, and Dora knew that sometimes the key to happiness consisted of waiting waiting waiting for the sun to come back.

The sun shines, bright, so bright the day they marry, beautiful June day like the first time they met. Dora's still smiling, child of light and joy, and her face is her own today, beautiful and radiant and she's getting everything she ever wanted. Remus smiles too, smile and smiles and damns himself for a liar, and curses every thought that reminds him of who isn't there. He was never meant to be alone _no pack no family _and now he has her, and she has what she wants, and maybe he can make her happy. But there isn't enough sunshine in the world.

Dora thinks _love_ sounds like sunsets and ice cream and falling asleep on the couch snuggled up to stay warm and picnics in the park in the light of the sun. Remus thinks _love_ sounds like illegal potions and blood on the walls and running through dark forests and _pack brothers family_. Maybe they should have talked about that one.

Sometimes Remus holds Teddy, child of his heart, child he never wanted, and loves him so much the whole world goes nuclear-white with the force of it, baby smiles and big eyes and being a part of the world again. Sometimes Dora knows that he's giving her everything he can, and it's almost enough. Sometimes he thinks they'd have been better off if he left, if he'd never met her, if he'd never smiled at her in the sunshine. Sometimes she does too.

They don't die together. Fitting, since they never really lived together. Different paces, different dreams, hardly a thread tied them together. Neither is surprised when death comes calling. Dora regrets leaving Teddy, her Teddy. Dora never could stop herself from going where she wanted. Remus regrets much. Remus never could make himself do the things he really wanted to.

Once upon a time, there was a boy named Remus, and the moon shone on his hair and on his fur, and he knew what it was to be loved. But even Remuses have to grow up some day, and as he grew, the world grew cold and hard and he grew grey and old and alone. Remus made himself a man and hid his need for love, and he was the unlucky one, unlucky survivor of the annihilation of the world, and Remus knew the key to happiness was understanding that it didn't exist in a vacuum, didn't exist without brotherhood and pack, and the sun doesn't come back after going to the other side.

And if the world had not grown dark again.

And if the Four had not become One then Two then One again.

And if the girl had not decided she was getting what she wanted.

And if the boy had not given in so that at least someone could be happy.

And if love had not been stronger than death and fear and darkness.

And if he had not been her rock, her childhood dream of _safe_.

And if she had not been his last link to the days when the sun shone.

Hushabye baby, don't say a word/Mama brings sunshine and Papa brings moon/

Sing thou of starlight and dreams to be heard/Bring thou me silver, I'll answer thy boon

Never forget, my Teddy, my darling, that love is stronger than death. Love destroys kingdoms and makes the sun shine and blood flow and promises count. Love destroys contentment, confinement, concealment. Love brings life and joy and pain and sorrow and death.

So riddle me this, Teddy Lupin, tall boy smiling in the sunshine, in the moonlight, by the bright stars –

What will you do – you with your spells and your plans and your ambitions? You, with the spells to reverse time and control love? You who wish for parents you have never known? Choose carefully.

This is not a love story. Or maybe it is. Define love.


End file.
